When we moved into this house, there was a row of
flower pots on an outside wall. One or
two were empty, but most had forlorn plants abandoned by the previous
owners. Scrofulous orchids, nibbled by
slugs, some type of succulent and an amaryllis.
We brought them inside, pampered them, and in return, they bloomed.
The empty pots stayed on the wall, waiting to be
used. Eventually speedwell seeded itself
in those pots and we let it run wild. In
the autumn of that first year, the speedwell died back and an oxalis sprouted
in one of the pots. I brought it in and
after sending four wobbly stems into the air, it died. Bummer.
So the pot went back outside.
Next spring, more speedwell on the wall. In the autumn, once again the oxalis came up,
this time a bit more hardy and confident.
Now we have a regular thing, this oxalis and me, meeting up every autumn
for its short lifespan. It’s like we’re intermittent
friends that we can each count on.
That’s the story you hold in your left hand while
I talk about what’s in my right hand.
Early in the week, I read a blog by Amy Mackin
that perfectly described when a typical rejection letter becomes a crossroads
in the perception of oneself as a writer.
It’s a brutal experience for some (most?) of us. Her blog made it so intimately real, it hurt
to read.
The blog incited all sorts of responses in me,
none of which I shared with the author.
Not even when later in the week, someone thanked me for writing Amy’s blog. The whole synchronicity of that exchange went
zoooom over my head.
And then a friend of mine shared a link about SoulPancake’s
ball pit friends. Basically, a box of
plastic balls with a sign over it that says, Take a Seat, Make a Friend. On top of the small plastic balls are several
larger ones with tasks written on them to help the friendship along:
Share three things on your bucket list.
Find one thing you have in common.
Describe the first time you fell in love.
Talk about someone who inspires you.
Talk about the experience that changed your life.
Create a secret handshake.
Those people in the ball pit were random, but they
made friendship look so natural and easy.
Sort of like my oxalis that comes up every year and that I set on my window
sill to watch grow. How easy would it
have been to’ve recycled the compost that first summer and planted something else
in that pot? To never have known there
was something lovely in the dirt? How
easy for any of those people in the film to come across the ball pit, read the
sign, and keep walking. Like reading a
blog that moved me and not commenting. I’d
missed a chance to create a secret handshake with someone.
That’s the way of the virtual world. What SoulPanCake’s video doesn’t show are the
pairs who got into the box and didn’t hit it off. That happens.
It’s all part of the risk. But we
should, from time to time, consider the moment that we’re in as the ball pit,
take a seat and make a friend.
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